


Lift You Up (ease you down)

by So_Caffeinated (so_caffeinated)



Series: Stop The Presses [5]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, PWP, Sex, Smut, excerpt from a longer fic, honestly just smut, that's all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 09:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4872388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/so_caffeinated/pseuds/So_Caffeinated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver has entirely too much tension and adrenaline built up to sleep. Felicity's got an idea or two how to fix that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lift You Up (ease you down)

**Author's Note:**

> This - almost exactly - a portion of chapter fifteen of No Way Out But Through. If you've read that fic, you've read this. However, for those of you who don't care for long, plotty ensemble fics, I thought I'd pull this segment out as a stand-alone fic. There is absolutely nothing in this that requires any knowledge of the plot of the fic it came from. It's just smut. That's it and that's all. Thanks to alizziebyanyothername for the beta and my Tumblr dash for the title brainstorm. Enjoy!

Oliver's  _exhausted_ , weary to his very core after an intense day that's kept him on-edge and battle-ready. But the adrenaline surging through his veins is so strong it leaves him almost feeling jittery.

"You aren't going to be able to sleep… are you?" Felicity asks, sizing up the situation correctly.

"I'd built up all these worst-case scenarios, you know?" he asks her, sighing and stretching his neck as he talks. "I was ready for it. Or, as ready as I could be. And then… none of that happened."

"So you're still waiting for it to happen," she surmises.

"Yeah. Maybe," he allows.

"Well… the way I see it, there's two ways to go about getting past that," she tells him, her free hand wrapping around the back of his neck and kneeding the exceedingly tense muscles there. "You could go find the gym in this place and hit a punching bag until you're too exhausted to stand or…"

"Or?" he asks after it's obvious that she's not about to finish her thought.

"Yeah…  _or_ ," she replies suggestively.

And…  _hell yes_. His instincts shift from survival to something else exceedingly primal on a dime. The air goes heavy and he can practically feel his pupils dilate as his attention hones in solely on her.

" _Or_ ," he responds thickly. "Definitely 'or.'"

"Yeah?" she asks, her voice a little teasing as he moves forward, crowding her to the point where she actually has to take a step back.

" _Yes,"_  he replies firmly, leaning down to kiss her with purpose even as his hands curl around the backs of her bare thighs and hoist her up.

Her legs wrap around his waist easily, her lips part against his and he drinks her in with equal parts need and want. There is a rightness he finds when he's with her that he's never encountered anywhere else. She understands him like no one else ever has. And he needs that right now, needs her in a way he hadn't even realized until she'd said the word 'or.'

Slim fingers tighten in the hair at the nape of his neck and his hands slide up to palm her ass as he walks her backwards. And  _fuck_  she's not even wearing underwear, he realizes with a groan when his fingers find more skin.

Like he  _needed_  more encouragement?

They collide, intentionally if he's being honest, with the dresser and he holds her up with one hand while he shoves a lamp and a cheap alarm clock off the furniture with a resounding crash. Her hand reaches behind her for stability as he sets her down atop it and drags her right to the edge, standing between her thighs.

"Oliver, there's a bed right over there," she says with a laugh that gives way to a gasp as his teeth find the curve of her collarbone.

"Yes there is," he agrees easily as he nibbles against the juncture of her neck and shoulder, completely undeterred from his current objective.

"Oliver, that's…  _oh,"_ she shudders as he finds  _that_  spot on her neck and sucks.

He knows all the spots that make her quake and shiver by now and he is more than happy to use every single one of them to reduce her to a writhing, beautiful mess at the moment.

"Oh God, Oliver," she moans throatily as his fingers tease up the back of one of her calves to the soft underside of her knee.

Her fingers tangle further in his hair and her grip tightens like she's trying to keep his mouth exactly where it is. His teeth scrape against her skin before sucking on it again and she flat-out  _whimpers_ , her body quivering as goosebumps break out across her skin and her nipples pebble up underneath the thin fabric of his crisp, white button-down shirt. Delight and triumph pound in his veins. There is nothing,  _nothing_  that he enjoys more than drawing these reactions out of her.

There's a tug on his shirt and he's so focused that it takes him a moment to realize that one of her hands had left her hair and she's doing her level-best to pull his henley off with one hand. Out of necessity and the bone-deep desire to bury himself inside her at some point in the very near future, he pulls back and hurriedly rids himself of the shirt.

He takes a moment to look at her before diving back in. She's gorgeous and mussed and can't possibly begin to understand what seeing her here like this in just his dress shirt does to him.

His lips find hers again, each of them demanding and intense, a little rougher and needier than usual, but then maybe that's to be expected after the day they've had. There's so much adrenaline in him, he's  _so_  keyed up at this point that his hands are shaking as he circles one finger around her still-clothed, peaked nipple and tugs her so that her naked sex is pressed firmly against his groin.

She groans, tilting her head back to thud against the wall as she pushes her chest up, granting him better access. Whatever thin patience he'd had evaporates at the sight of her so eager and wanton. He tugs at the shirt, the top three buttons slipping their fastenings easily, but the fourth button flying somewhere across the room. He doesn't care. At all. He can buy more shirts. Hell, he'll buy a goddamned shirt factory if it means he can tear them off of her like this on a regular basis.

She moves to shrug the shirt off of her shoulders, but it only slides down one, leaving her left breast fully exposed. His fingers grip the other side of the shirt, holding it up and he meets her questioning gaze with intensity.

"Leave it," he says gruffly.

Her mouth forms a little 'o' shape in surprise and it might be adorable under other circumstances but right now it's just fueling his carnal thoughts even more.

"Yeah?" she asks, somewhat breathlessly.

" _Yes_ ," he responds in a near-growl.

He keeps his eyes fixed on hers as he lowers his mouth to her exposed breast, nosing the shirt out of the way before fixing his lips around her nipple and sucking on it with sudden firmness. She tries to hold his gaze. He knows she does. But they are practiced lovers at this point. He knows how to make her go slack-jawed and her eyes flutter shut against her will. And, soon enough, she's got her head thudded back against the wall as she whimpers again.

His hands wrap around her waist, practically spanning the whole of it, as he savors the texture of her nipple, his tongue sliding across it with steady pressure. Almost unconsciously, his hips rock into hers, his rigid, clothed cock pressing urgently against her clit. She's so fucking wet that he can feel it even through his slacks. Her scent is filling the air, making his heart race and his mouth water.

One of her hands slides between them and he jumps involuntarily as her nails rake against the seam of his pants.

"Oh fuck, Felicity," he groans, his forehead pressed to her chest.

He looks down to watch as she palms him through his pants, her fingers alternately providing pressure and scraping along the bulge of his dick with her nails.

"That  _is_  the general idea," she replies.

He can  _hear_  the smirk in her voice. Something in her tone makes him lift his head to look her in the eye. There's a challenge there. She's  _trouble_  and he fucking loves it. She raises an eyebrow at him as she slides her hand into his pants and wraps her fingers around his cock.

His hips jerk as she pumps him lightly, teasingly. She's playing with fire right now and from the look on her face, she  _knows_ it. He's not in a teasing mood, but every little thing she's doing make him want to hear her scream his name and thrash against him all the more.

Somewhere in her teasing she's undone the fastening for his pants and he takes advantage of that to tug off his slacks and boxer-briefs and kick them away. With one last teasing trail of her finger, she lets go of his cock and braces her hands behind her instead, her eyes alight with anticipation as he curls his hands around the backs of her knees to get them into just the right position.

The dresser, as it turns out, is at the perfect height.

She's slick, positively needy with her wetness, and with a slight dip of his knees he aligns his cock right with her entrance and pushes in. The angle has him deeper than usual  _and_  manages to hit that spot that always gets her to break apart quickly and violently. She chokes on a breath and whimpers his name as her head thuds back against the wall again.

" _Yes_ ," she hisses out as he drives into her again and again.

He's supporting her as much as the dresser is. She's leaning back against her hands but he's got one arm banded around her waist, propping her up a bit, giving him one hell of a view as his cock buries itself inside her. Every goddamned thing about her is fucking gorgeous right now. Her breasts are bouncing with every thrust, her head is thrown back as she gasps for air, those entrancing legs of hers are wrapped around him like a vise. He's pretty sure he could come from the sight alone.

But first, he's pretty determined to make her fall apart. More than once, if he has anything to say about it.

The first time is easy. She was close even before he got his pants off. All it takes is a filthy, wet kiss and a grind on the end of his thrusts a few times before her eyes roll back and she comes with a sharp cry and a frantic bouncing of her hips against his.

He keeps thrusting, more gently until her breathing slows back down and the flush works its way out of her skin. There's something lazy and satisfied in her smile as she comes back to herself, but he is nowhere near done with her yet.

"You're breathtaking like that," he tells her, tangling his fingers in her wild hair and tilting her head to the side to expose the long column of her neck.

" _Oh_ ," she sighs languidly as he works his lips along the slender line of her throat.

It's a little possessive, maybe. A little more alpha-male than usual. But then this isn't slow, worshipful love-making on a lazy sunday morning. This is a different kind of expression, a different kind of passion, and there's room in their lives for both.

"I want to watch you do it again," he growls against her throat, releasing her hair and reaching down to brush against her clit with his thumb.

"Oh god," she cries out. " _Oh god, Oliver_."

"I love when you're loud," he tells her encouragingly, rubbing firm little circles over her clit with his thumb and he drives into her harder. "Bet I can get you even louder."

She's past conscious words at this point, but she bites her lip like she's trying to keep the noises in and he views that as a challenge.

He's close. Seeing her like this, watching her break, getting her close to that point again already, it's absolutely hitting him on all the right levels. There's a tingling heat curling at the base of his spine and his balls are tightening up with his impending release, but he refuses to let that happen before he watches her fall apart again.

He nuzzles against the soft skin of her neck, letting his scruff scrape against it before soothing over the flesh with his tongue. Then, he sucks against her neck and pinches her clit between his fingers and she's tumbling over the edge again.

"Oh  _god!_  Oh yes,  _yes_. Oliver!" she cries out desperately as she bounces on his cock. "Right there. Don't stop. Don't stop. Oh  _fuck_!"

His orgasm takes him violently an instant later. It's all too much, the clench of her walls around him as her heels dig into his ass and her small breasts bounce beautifully right in front of him. He loses himself in her, empties himself inside her and the world narrows down to him and her for a few long, euphoric moments.

"Oh my god," she moans in a blissed-out voice as she reclines bonelessly against the dresser and the wall. "Holy shit, you should come home without finding a fight more often."

He can't help but chuckle at that and press a soft kiss against her lips. It amazes him sometimes, how much he loves her, how much he wants this every day for the rest of his life.

But now isn't the time for thoughts of forever. Now's the time for thoughts of the next hour, the rest of the evening, the immediate future. And, quite frankly, Oliver's wants for the immediate future are the same they were fifteen minutes ago. He's still amped up, still nowhere near sleep, and he's wondering how many times tonight he can make her scream his name.

"Ready for sleep?" she asks, running her fingers along the side of his face with obvious affection that he can't help but lean into.

"Ready for  _bed_ ," he corrects her, surprising her by lifting her from the dresser and walking them toward the mattress with his mostly-softened cock still inside her. "But I'm nowhere near ready for  _sleep_."


End file.
